Fate
by j.m.hxc. xo420
Summary: A tub filled with dark, crimson red blood. Steam was rising from the deep red liquid. Clear, cold water flows from the faucet but the red liquid appears undisturbed.
1. Fate

---

Yes!

Another fic! Well, this is more of a ficlet. But whatever.

This is dedicated to **Garen Ruy Maxwell.** Because of him, well, I won't say. He knows.

If not, he can ask me. But I will say that he is the reason I'm here right now writing at all. (oh, and Garen I owe you one more story! A good long one! Like Cracks in the Picture Window)

So,without further adu, the story.

---

By the way: In the first chapter, there is hardly any newsie sightings. And there is LOTS of dialogue.

Oh, yah, And I don't own Newsies.

And this chapter didn't get spell checked or beta'd or anything. Sorry about that. I don't have anyone to Beta my stories.

---

Spot glared at Whistler. "Whaddya mean you didn't do the errands!" Whistler just stood with his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself. (Hence the nickname)

"Whistler. Explain yourself." Spot commanded. Whistler sighed, and thought about telling Spot what had happened earlier...

---

_Ginny:_

_I tried to keep my balance on the rail. It was slippery. And I was getting cold. I stared for a moment at the icy water below me. I was sure if I jumped, I would die. The one thing that would clear my pain. Relieve me of this pathetic thing some called living. A voice pierced my thoughts like a blade piercing the darkness._

_"What the hell are you doing, Ginny?" the voice asked. I winced._

_"Admiring the view, Wiss." I replied, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice._

_"Don't tell me your trying to kill yourself again. You know this is wrong..." Whistler started. "Suicide isn't the..."_

_"Isn't the answer. I know. I know." Silence followed my little interuption._

_"Please. Don't do it." Whistler pleaded._

_"Why not, huh? What am I living for? A dime a day and the hope of becoming a writer eventually? It just isn't worth it. I'm living a pathetic existence. I have no friends and everyone hates me..." I started._

_"I don't hate you." Whistler interupted._

_"Whistler..."_

_"What? One person doesn't matter. Let me list a few more to sway your thoughts: Star. Kat. Revolt. Silva Shot. Jack. Race. Mush. Kid Blink. Skittery. Me. Need I continue?"_

_"Whistler. No. One. Really. Cares..."_

_Whistler opened his mouth as if he was going to stop me again. "Save you." I added._

_He sighed and rubbed his temples. "What can I say to make you get off of there?"_

_"Just say 'jump'." I answered, turning back to face the icy water and my own death._

_"I won't say it." Whistler said. I felt the coldness of his glare digging into my back._

_"You know that people care about you." Whistler continued._

_"No they don't. They just pretend to. If I killed myself now no one would notice." I replied, trying in vain to ignore him._

_"I would." He cut me off yet another time._

_"We just went through this I..."_

_"I would notice." he repeated._

_"IF I DIE NOTHING WILL CHANGE IN ANYONES LIFE! I WON'T BE MISSED AND NO ONE WILL LOSE ANYTHING!" I shouted, a bit louder than I had intended to._

_"My life would change. I'd lose a friend. And the world would lose a great author." Whistler insisted. It amazed me how well he could keep his temper low. He never seemed to get mad._

_"Garen..." My voice trailed off. What more could I say to him?_

_"Are you going to kill youself?" He asked._

_I didn't answer him and tried once again to just fall._

_"This is a pressing matter." He reminded me._

_"What the hell is pressing about it?" I asked angrily._

_"It's pressing because I hope you won't kill youself." He said. I frowned._

_"Don't waste another thought on me."_

_"It's not a waste." _

_"It is."_

_"No it's not."_

_"It is, dammit!" I yelled._

_"It isn't. And I really wish you'd stop insisting that it is, because it's totally not." Whistler replied, his tone still cool._

_"It 'totally' is! You don't understand!" I felt tears begin to form in my eyes. I wanted to turn around and jump, but a voice held me back. _

Listen to me. _It whispered. I looked back at Whistler._

_"I want to read something to you..." He started._

_"Don't bother. Seriously. Put your time to something worth it." I insisted, lifting one foot up, ready to jump. He grabbed my raised ankle and held it tight._

_"Listen, I am specifically not running the errands for Spot because I want to make sure you're okay." He said. I bent down and slapped his hand in one swift motion._

_"Do your work and don't even bother with me. In the long run, doing your work will be smarter..."_

_"Not if I'm unable to live with myself for letting a friend commit suicide!" Whistler exclaimed._

_"A friend. One friend. For Paladine's sake! It's just me! Ginny. Definition- Worthless, pathetic, stupid girl who is barely able to keep her friends. They either die or abandon her for someone else." I yelled at him, wishing he'd dissappear into the ground._

_"Definition: a smart, intellegent girl who is an excellent writer, who happens to have bad luck. And Stealth dying had nothing to do with you." Whistler added._

_"Ha. That's so untrue it's funny. If I had been there. I could've done something..."_

_"Her pill bottle was empty. There was nothing anyone could do."_

_"I could've done something!" I insisted. Whistler sighed. _

_"Argh. Is the water frozen? Damn. Even Mother Nature hates me. Why does everyone hate me!" I cried out._

_"I don't hate you." Whistler repeated._

_"Not even a little?" I inquired._

_"Nope." Whistler answered._

_"Everyone hates me. Even if it is just a little..." I pried, trying to get him to say he hated me just a little bit. Just so I had an excuse to jump and get away from him._

_"I don't. You've never given me any reason to."_

_"I'm me. I'm alive still. that's reason enough for everyone else."_

_"Just for Ashley and her cronies."_

_"Everyone in the lodging house. And Switch. All of my older brothers friends..."_

_"Switch doesn't hate you, he's just brainwashed."_

_"No. He hates me. Because Ashley wants him to."_

_"And I think that is horrible. Because you totally don't deserve it." Whistler said, reaching out a hand._

_"I do deserve it. I deserve everything that happens to me. Why? I don't know. But everything that happens happens for a reason." I hissed, shoving his outstretched hand away._

_"Maybe...maybe this is a test of your will!" Whistler explained._

_"My will is about to kill me. Every part of me is screaming to kill myself." I admitted._

_"No, I mean that it's a test to see if you can live in spite of everything.Think how happy Ashley would be if you killed yourself. Do you want to make her happy?"_

_"I like happiness." I objected._

_"But not for rotten, friend-stealing bitches."_

_"That's true..." I sighed._

_"Feeling any better?" he asked._

_"A bit.Thanks to a very hard to silence voice." I smirked a bit._

_"Which voice is that?"_

_"You." I whispered back._

_"Thanks for listening." He grinned. "Here, let me help you off the railing..." He reached his hand up to me again. I grasped it and tried to climb over the railing. The hem of my dress was caught under my boot, and I slipped on the fabric. Before I could even register what was happening, I was falling off the bridge and plummeting towards sure death._

_---_

_Whistler:_

_I watched as her hand began to slip from my own. _Please. Don't die. You can't. Don't fall. Please. _I pleaded to her silently. Fear flashed over her face and I swear I saw her fate flash in her now unusually pale blue eyes._

_I tried unsuccessfully to grab her arm with my free hand. I watched her fall in complete silence. I looked away, not wanting to see her mangled body. Or bear witness to her death. A moment later, the screams ceased. I lowered my head and stared at the ground. Ginny was dead. I don't know what possessed me to look over the railing, but I did. _

_What I saw shocked me. Ginny was hanging onto one of bars just below the rail. I partly grinned knowing she wasn't dead, but couldn't smile fully knowing she wasn't quite yet safe. I leaned far over the railing and just managed to grab her left wrist. Even though I don't look strong enough to, I pulled her up and over the railing._

_Tears were streaming down her face and she was truly afraid of the fate that had just stared her in the face._

_"Fate." I whispered._

_"Huh?" She asked, looking up from her spot on the pavement. She tried to wipe cold sweat from her face with the hem of her dress._

_"Fate. That can be your nickname. Like mine is Whistler. Yours can be Fate." I reiterated._

_"Fate." She whispered to herself. "I like it."_

_"Good. Then we shall call you Fate from now on." I grinned. "C'mon let's get back to the Lodging House before you try anything else stupid." I stuck my hand out to help her up._

_This was probably the first time I had really looked into her eyes. "What colour are your eyes, really?" I asked. _

_"Pale blue when I'm afraid and green any other time." Fate replied, grasping my hand and allowing me to pull her up. "Why?"_

_I shrugged. "Just curious."_

_---_

General:

Whistler grabbed Fate's hand. A thin, shaking girl was pulled in.

"So... this is Ginny. She's from Manhattan, huh?" Spot asked, looking the red headed girl over.

"Fate. My name is Fate." She corrected, her now green coloured eyes blazing.

"Sorry, Fate." Spot said. "Why did you try to commit suicide? Er, if you don't mind my asking."

"I was under the impression I had nothing to live for. But, I see now I was wrong." Fate admittted.

"Well, it's nice to have you visit, Fate. It's not often Whistler has friends over. Erm, that is ones that he's not having an affair with." Spot added playfully. Fate laughed and Whistler just rolled his eyes.

"That's not true. I have tons of friends over."

"Rats don't count." Spot laughed.

"Shut up. I wasn't counting rats." Whistler started.

"And Emily, my obnoxious sister, doesn't count. And neither do little kids who you tell stories to." Spot said. Whistler sighed. "Okay, so I don't have alot of visitors."

---

Fate:

I sat in the guest room Spot had been gracious enough to let me use and stared at the ceiling. _Why had I tried to kill myself?_ _What stopped me from doing it? Why am I still here?_

A soft knock at the door interupted my thoughts. "Come in." I called.

"Hey. You okay?" Whistler asked.

"Fine. What's up?" I sat up on the bed.

"Not too much. I wrote a new poem though." Whistler said, sitting down next to me.

"Oooo. Sounds good. What is it called?" I tried to read the journal in his hands.

"It's called Ginny's Song." Whistler told me.

"Hey. My name is Ginny." I mused aloud.

"Yep." Whistler agreed.

"Who is it about? Ginny W.?" I asked.

"Nope, you." Whistler answered, flipping through the pages.

"Awesome! Read it to me pleaaaassseee." I begged.

"_Never repeat the mistakes I made _

_Never think that you're less than you are _

_Try to laugh, try to cry _

_Try to live without hating _

_Live life as it's meant to be _

_Don't let it pass by_." Whistler read.

"That's really good!" I exclaimed.

"Glad you like it. It's for you, by the way." Whistler added.

"Really! Thanks so much!" I grinned, beginning to copy the poem onto another piece of paper.

"Don't you _ever _try to commit suicide ever again." Whistler commanded.

I sighed. "I can't promise that."

"You have to." He insisted. I didn't want to come in contact with his fist (Okay, so he would never punch a girl, but still), so I agreed I wouldn't try it. At least for a while. That was enough to get him off my back for the night. He got up and headed for the door.

"G'night." Whistler said, closing my door and heading out.

"Night." I called to the door. I flopped back down on my bed and stared blandly at the white ceiling. The hours slowly ticked away.

It was at the still of midnight I realized something. I couldn't die. I had at least one person who cared about what happened to me.

_---_

Yeah...so...alot of that is direct quotes from the actual thing that took place. But that is all I'm saying cuz I don't want to get pummeled to death. I hope that was okay.

Oh **Garen Ruy Maxwell **actually wrote the poem, so yah. I didn't write that. My poetry skills are slim to none.

Tell me what you think. C'mon press the little blue button! You know you want to!

Carryin' Da Bannah!

--GiNnY--

---


	2. Pools of Blood

Hey!

Chapter two. Oh yeah! Go me!

---

Disclaimer:

I don't own Newsies. Mkay?

Okay. Let's get started then, eh?

---

General:

Late in the night, Fate found herself sitting in the bathroom. An ice cold blade gripped tightly in her hand. The urge had overtaken her again. The content and satisfaction she had earlier felt was gone. She didn't feel needed anymore. She didn't feel like living. Memories had haunted her dreams.

Depression stalked her like a killer his prey. Depression and past hurt drove the blade into her wrist. Again. Again. Again. The pain hardly touched Fate's mind. She thought she was getting better. She thought the pain and hurt was flowing out like the blood.

She watched her blood pour down her wrists and arms, forming puddles on the floor around her. She moved the knife up a bit on her wrist, until it was above the blue vein. She cut lightly. A nice small cut. Then, forced the knife deeper.

Pain shot through her arm and the blood poured out faster than before. It hurt now. The pain began to overtake her, and she began seeing red. All around her. Red. Red. Red...

The ground was covered. She dipped her fingers in it. One word flashed through her mind. A single name. The single safe-haven. Her protector. "WHISTLER!" She screached. She began to feel dizzy. In moments... she was knocked out.

---

Whistler:

I sat bolt right up in bed. My keen hearing had picked up a sound. A scream. A cry for help. Fate...

I jumped out of bed and ran to her room, finding the door ajar and her no where in sight. I soon saw I wasn't the only one awake. The hallway was filled with newsbpys who had been awoken by the scream. Spot came out of his room in only boxers, looking angry.

"WHAT WAS THAT, WHISTLER?"

I looked around. "I don't know... I heard someone scream. Fate is missing..."

Spot frowned deeper. "You woke me up for that?"

"Spot, stop being an ass! She could be hurt!" I exclaimed angrily. I was only concerned because Fate had become like my younger sister. I felt responsible for her.

"That isn't my problem is it?" Spot inquired, turning around.

"SPOT! SHE IS LIKE MY FUCKING SISTER! AND IF YOU DON'T HELP ME FIND HER I'LL MAKE IT SO YOU CAN NEVER WALK AGAIN!" I yelled. I was angry now. "Fate could be dead and it would be all my fault for not trying to find her and save her from herself!"

Spot turned angrily, but I knew I'd won.

"Fine. Let's go. No one sleeps until Fate is found." Spot growled, and headed down the hallway. I smiled triumphantly.

"...Spot...Whistler... I think I've found her. And..." Copper's voice trailed off.

"TELL ME DAMMIT!" Spot yelled.

"SHE'S IN THE BATHROOM! She's laying in blood and... I don't think she's breathing..."

---

Sorry it's short. Sorry if Fate seems sorta Mary-Sueish. She is. I mean, she's suicidal!

I think what happens in the next few chapters will be... unexpected...

GiNnY


	3. Seeing Her Lifeless Face

Disclaimer:

Don't own Newsies and not associated with Walt Disney Studios. (Obviously.)

---

It was a race between Spot and Whistler to see who could get to the bathroom first.

Whistler won.

A stickey, pinkish liquid flowed out from underneath the door. Whistler opened the door slowly, dreading what he may see.

Blood spilled over his feet, colouring his feet a pinkish-red. Blood was evenly spread throughout the floor. Frigidly cold water was pouring from the bathtub, dialating the blood, giving it a pinkish hue.

Whistler tried to take it all in. The blood, the water, the motionless body in the middle of the floor...

He felt his stomach churn as his eyes rested on Fate's bloodied figure. Cuts adorned her wrists, legs, shoulders, and arms. The blood had stopped flowing from her, but her skin was still a deep red. Her red hair was wet from the blood and water mix. Her white nightdress was now permanently stained pink.

Fate's blue eyes remained open, staring at him coldly. Her black pupils were small, causing the piercing blue colour to stand out more than ever.

"Fate..." Whistler whispered. He was too late. He gently shut her eyelids and picked her up from the wet ground. Blood and water dripped off her, landing in the pools below. Her body weighed much more than normal, her being soaked in blood and water and all.

Whistler froze for a moment, staring at her dead figure. He examined the cuts that covered her body like tribal patterns. The cuts were all different sizes and shapes and depths. Whistler cringed at the thought of shoving a blade into your own body. And knowing that it was going to hurt. He couldn't imagine what those last moments were like for Fate.

What hurt Whistler the most was the fact she died alone. She died not knowing how much he and others cared. She died believing no one would notice her death. Did she want to live when she found out she would die? Was she scared? Was it painful?

Whistler let a lone tear slip down his cheek and fall onto Fate.

"I'm really sorry this happened, Fate. I'm sorry I wasn't there," he whispered to the dead girl. "As you older brother, I should have been here the moment you called. Been here for you so you wouldn't have died."

He knew she probably couldn't hear him, but all the same, he felt it had to be said.

He got up, walked across the room, and shut the water off, holding Fate steadily with one arm.

He watched as the murky, bloody water that filled the tub poured down the drain in a swirling motion. The way the colours mixed made his stomach churn.

Fate's cold, lifeless face was etched into his mind, a picture he would never forget. Her eyes stuck out to him the most. Not only for the blue colour they had been, but that they showed fear. They showed that she was afraid and worried.

The picture re-surfaced in his mind as he watched the mix drain.

He vaguely remembered times when Fate had been happy, smiling and laughing all the time.

He smiled a bit at the thought of Fate jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge and landing in the dirty river below, the smile that never left her face. She had lightened everyone's mood with her personality. Now...

Whistler stared blankly at the body in his arms. It hardly looked like the innocent, care-free, pretty girl he remembered so clearly. It resembled a ghastly girl who was deathly white and cut up all over. He gently pushed some wet hair out of her eyes.

Spot, who had been watching Whistler for quite some time now, walked over to the boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Whistler."

Whistler pulled his gaze from Fate and focused it on Spot, trying to force a smile on his face.

"She's dead..." Whistler choked. The words were hard to say, and hard to accept. They meant as her older brother and protector, he had failed. He had gone through so much for her, and it was all to waste. It hurt Whistler worse than any physical blow he could ever recieved.

It was then Whistler noticed Spot had tears in his eyes.

"...Spot, are you crying?" Whistler asked, in slight disbelief. Spot never had shown much approval of Fate...Or really any emotion at all. Even though Spot was his blood brother, Whistler had never seen Spot like this.

"I'm just sad, I guess. A good friend of yours died, and there is nothing you or I or anyone can do about it. I just... I guess I can't explain it," Spot admitted, glaring hard at the wall to hide his emotions.

Whistler got up and carried Fate towards the front door. He had to bring her to the morgue or the hospital.

All of the newsboys watched Whistler carry the lifeless and blood-dripping body to the door and over the bridge towards Manhatten.

His figure slowly faded in the distance and fog.

--

Whistler stopped about mid-way across the bridge. He leaned way over the edge and looked at the river. It glistened against the moonlight, which seemed dimmed. The stars were dim.

Even the stars were mourning the loss of his almost sister.

No ripples were even in the water. Whistler tossed a rock angrily at the stilled water, causing ripples to flow gently across and the picture to waver.

Whistler turned back to face his destination. He had a long walk ahead of him.

A long, lonely walk.

---

So, what sayeth you?

Was it good? Bad? Pathetic? Not enough emotion? Too little description?

Answer that stuff for me, please! I tried to make this chapter believable, though I bet you all were laughing insanely hard. It's supposed to be serious and sad, but I bet it's was just pathetic.

Well, tell me what thou thinkest! Please. : )

If you don't like it, I won't continue it, but if you by some odd chance like it, please tell me. I'll be glad to continue writing this story if someone actually likes it.

-Ginny

P.S- Garen, do you think I captured Whistler's reactions adequently? I wanted his reactions to be something you may actually do, though I kinda doubt it. I'm not terribly good at this sort of thing, as you can tell. This chapter was really pathetic as far as detail, description, and emotion goes. :(


	4. Fight Between Nightmares and Reality

Alrighty, chapter the next children. Read and enjoy: )

Whistler carried Fate's body through the city to the morgue. He stood outside the cast iron doors, staring at length at it's dark, gloomy, eery, shadowed frame. _Is this really the place I want to leave my sister? Is this where I want her soul to rest forever? No, I've got to take her elsewhere. _

He turned and headed towards the cemetary. He could easily bury her. Yet... it felt wrong... He couldn't picture himself burying her body into the cold hard ground, letting the bugs eat her up, leaving nothing but bones in it's place. No, no, that felt all wrong. It was worse than leaving her in the morgue to be picked apart by scientists. _What would you want, Ginny? What would you have me do? Please show me a sign. Something. Anything!_

Whistler looked around, hoping for a sign. Her spirit had to be here. He could feel her presence. _Ginny, answer me. Please. I feel your presence about me. Please don't leave me to do this on my own._

Still nothing happened.

"...Alright, you refuse to be buried in the cemetary. Where do you want me to leave you, huh? Just show me the way. I'll go. I'll put you wherever you want to be laid to rest. Just, point that spot out," Whistler continued to talk to the spirit. He felt a strong wind pushing him toward the bridge.

"The bridge?" Whistler raised his eyebrow. "Why there?"  
The wind only picked up stronger.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Whistler grumbled as he carried her body back towards the bridge. _Why here? Why did you go now?_

As if she was answering his question, there came a light, soft, melodical voice. It was singing softly. Singing a song Whistler had taught Ginny when she was a bit younger. "Dan y dwr, tawelwch sydd/ Dan y dwr, galwaf i/ Nid yw'r swn gyda fi./ Dan y dwr, tawelwch am byth./ Dan y dwr, galwaf i./ Nid yw'r swn ddim fwy gyda fi."(Translation: Beneath the waters, there is silence/ Beneath the waters, I call you/ There is no company with me/ Beneath the waters, silent forever/ Beneath the waters, I call you/ The sound is no longer with me.) No one was coming on the bridge... odd... but not completely peculiar...  
Whistler waited for his next sign. The wind shoved him closer toward the edge. "Go. There. Put me there!" It seemed to urge.  
Whistler frowned, but wasn't one to object with spirits demands. He gently lowered her body over the edge, as far as he could. He didn't want to drop her, it just didn't seem right. But...this is what she wanted isn't it?  
_Of course it is,_ his mind hissed ferociously. _Dump her and get it over with. Let go. It's better to let go and release the pain. Dispose of the dark source that this pain is flowing from.  
_He promptly let go of her arms, not watching her body hit the waters. His eyes were shut tight, holding back the threatening tears. He heard the eerily familiar sound of a body hitting the water. He flinched. The sound was a reminder that he had let go. Finally.  
He promptly turned around and walked back the the lodging house. An ill-at-ease feeling haunting his gut and a filthy black shadow tracing his steps.

Whistler got back to the lodging house, feeling incredibly dirty, angry, and confused. He went to his room, ignoring everyone around him. All of the eyes that followed him, trying to catch his own to pry for answers to all of their questions, but Whistler was in no mood for the stupid, pointless questions. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up from this horrid nightmare.

"Wiss, I cleaned up the bathroom for you," Spot said, trying to be casual. "I figured you'd rather not do it."

_What if I wanted to do it, huh? What if I wanted to clean up the blood? _He mentally hollared at Spot. But he knew in his heart he didn't have the strength to clean up her blood.

"Thanks, Spot," Whistler replied, heading down towards his room.

He opened the door to his room and layed down on his old worn bed, allowing himself to submit to horror-filled dreams.

When he awoke, he could barely make sense and differentiate from his nightmares and reality. Everything felt wrong. He got slowly out of bed, feeling as if life had been drained from him.

He stumbled towards the bathroom. He needed to prove to himself nothing was there. No one was there. Nothing was going to hurt him.

He opened the door with confidence, sure that there was nothing there. Sure nothing was going to come out of the darkness towards him.

Whistler flicked the light on, and stared with wide-eyed horror at a tub filled with dark, crimson red blood. Steam was rising from the deep red liquid. Clear, cold water flows from the faucet but the red liquid appears undisturbed.

"But Spot cleaned this up...He did...He told me he did..." Whistler stuttered aloud, his voice barely audible. He leaned over the dark mess.

An eery feeling washed over him. _Someone else is here. _

"Ginny?" Whistler asked the air. "Ginny are you in here?"

A faint ripple in the water caught Whistker's attention.

"What the..."

He watched as a pale, cut up arm came from the water, grasping Whistler's throat.

An eery, faint voice that slightly resembled Ginny's came up from the water. It was in-human. "You let me _die_..." The voice hissed cruelly. "Now you shall face the same fate."

Whistler gasped for air and tried to scream. Not a sound. He could feel death coming. A dark shadow came over his eyes. Blood filled his vision as he slipped away from consciousness.

---

Chapter end for now. More soon.

--I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.--

XxGinnyxX


	5. Little Lotte

Darkness enveloped his body. His senses were intranced by it. Soft, sweet lullabyes were sang by a melodious voice, the voice of a girl. "Dan y dwr, tawelwch sydd/ Dan y dwr, galwaf i/ Nid yw'r swn gyda fi./ Dan y dwr, tawelwch am byth./ Dan y dwr, galwaf i./ Nid yw'r swn ddim fwy gyda fi."(Translation: Beneath the waters, there is silence/ Beneath the waters, I call you/ There is no company with me/ Beneath the waters, silent forever/ Beneath the waters, I call you/ The sound is no longer with me.) Suddenly, the soft tune shifted. Changing itself into a water-muted scream mutated into loud, horrid screaches of death.

Whistler's eyes flung open; his vision only to be blurred by a steaming red liquid substance.

He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, the liquid-like substance rushed into his mouth, filling it with the taste of nickel.

Whistler grabbed ahold of something ice cold, using it to pull himself up. He stood; only to find that the red liquid was really blood and the ice cold object he had used to pull himself up was the side of a bathtub. He spit and gagged on the vile drink, trying to get it out of his mouth, force it to leave his senses. He clawed at his clothes and skin, desperately attempting to get the blood off of him, cleanse himself.

"Brother," a soft voice called to him. "Brother! Why are you hiding?"

Whistler looked all around. He could sense Ginny's presence. But...it wasn't Ginny...it was more...He couldn't quite place it...It was a spirit...the undead, of that much he was sure...

"Brother! Brother-dear, where are you?" The voice called. It was the voice of a little girl. Whistler turned and found a girl peeking around the corner of the bathroom doorframe. "I'm sorry, mister, I was just looking for my brother." She explained, then added, "We died here you know..." She said it so casually Whistler barely picked it up.

"Wh--What?" He asked, trying to ensure he had heard correctly.

"Yes, this is the very place. The bathroom, yes. Papa had drunken too much that night... I came in here to hide...but it was no use...he found me first. He threw the knife...it pierced my skin...I remember it...over and over again it sliced. It was very painful." The little girl wailed. "And oh how did Papa laugh! Poor brother knew not what to do. By the time he got here, I was already dead. Then Papa killed himself, leaving brother alone." The little spirit girl finished her sad tale. "I was hoping to find him...But he would be old now. Very old, at least a hundred and twenty. Unless the enchantment spell I cast held. And I doubt it did."

Whistler was, needless to say, extremely perplexed. But..there must be a reason for this young girl coming to him and sharing this tale.

"What is your name?" Whistler asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Lotte. Little Lotte," She curtsied. "And you must be...um...Garen. Or as Ginny called you, Whistler?"

Whistler's head shot up in shock. "How did you...?"  
"Your sister, she told me. I bet you didn't know that every ten years another person is killed in here, alot like I was. Normally cut up. The demon of my Papa inflicts them, I think. They die the fate meant for my brother. It's very complex and oh so hard to understand..." the girl wailed some more.

Her wails were horrible. High-pitched screaches. Every time she wailed Whistler was forced to cover his extremely sensative ears.

Whistler wanted to console the girl, needing her to calm down before she destroyed his hearing. "Lotte, Lotte, calm down. Tell me about it. I want to help."

XxXx

Alright, this is a short chapter. VERY short. I hope to have the next one up today. Here is the deal: If you tell me what you thought of the chapter, if it sounds believable or extremely corny. Once again, my beta reader is away. :sigh:

XxGinnyxX


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